


Life on the Ground

by orphan_account



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Turkfic, mentoring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reno was meant to live in the sun, so Tseng raises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthday Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if any of this deviates too horribly from cannon. I'm trying to learn it all, but so far I've only successfully consumed the original game, ACC and parts of B.C. Yay 12 years late to the game.

The image is a little rough around the edges, a little jerky in places, and the sound seems to be on a fraction of a second delay. Tseng doesn't mind particularly. He'd asked for surveillance equipment that was cheap, discrete, and disposable, not top of the line. This would suit his purposes well enough.  
Ernie Vizzini is holding court.

This in itself is of no particular interest to Tseng. He knows all the players on Vizzini's board, and while his, to be fair, exceptionally virulent gang has been a thorn in Shinra's side for some time now, the problem is about to be solved. If all goes according to plan. And it will. This is a test after all. There are backups in place should the youth back out, or fail. Tseng is just beginning to get impatient when finally, the actual object of his observation appears: Mess of impossibly red hair, patched jacket marking him as high ranking member of Vizzini's small army; three years of careful observation hopefully not wasted. The youth beams at the rooms occupants, slouches to his usual place, behind the bosses desk, at his shoulder to the right, hands folded behind his back. An impressive position for a teenager. 

“Hey bossman, I need a word.”

“Whatever about?” But Vizzini is smiling, almost fondly, waving overly ringed fingers at his room of guards, informants, and sycophants. 

“Bohai, Armond, Stella. Take a break. Everyone else listen up.” The youth waits, while the three exit the room. An interesting choice. Tseng wonders at the logic in sparing them. Seven people besides Vezzini and the youth remain. The boss looks questioningly at his head of security and enforcement, but shows no tension yet. Reno just shoots him a disarming grin, and shrugs.

“Alright, boy, what is this about?”

“Gotta apologize, yo. Got a better offer.” 

Tseng isn't sure whether it's the limitations of the surveillance system, or if the recruit is simply that fast, but he cannot for the life of him say where the knife comes from. Not as important as that though, is the speed at which that knife is slicing through Vizzini's jugular, then flying through the air and into the throat of another of his courtiers. 

Six targets remain. 

Two start for the door, yelling alarms; they're brought down with shots from a gun produced as mysteriously as the knife, blood and gray matter spattering the walls. 

Four targets.

The first man to reach the youth is greeted with a pistol butt to the face, then slammed down into Vizzini's desk. He collapses with fountain pen in his eye, clearly custom made. 

Three.

Gun shoved into the mouth of the woman, Smith, rushing the youth, more brain matter. Vizzini surely inspired loyalty, but Tseng suspects it was mostly through fear.

Two.

The youth wrests the knife away from his next assailant, swiping it through the mans gut like so much useless lard, then his throat, to finish the job. 

One.

This one seems personal, to Tseng. He barrels into the readhead making use of his considerable mass advantage. Another high ranked member, by the large blue patches on his brown jacket sleeves. The recruit fights dirty though, teeth and nails tearing into flesh. Tseng has never understood that turn of phrase, sees no dishonor in using the tools available. The fight is over the instant the kid gets a grip on him, knee's pressing the mans wrists to the floor, fingers clamped around his throat. The man, thrashing, turns red, then purple, then blue, then at last ceasing, even the convulsion of frantically firing nerves finally still. 

The youth lets out a tremendous sigh, that shakes his whole being, and Tseng worries, for just a moment, that he is too afraid. That he will surrender himself. He rolls of the corpse and tries to stand, but stumbles, catches himself on Vizzinis desk, swallows dry heaves for fifteen seconds. But now he straightens himself, strips off his blood soaked outer layers and dumps them unceremoniously on the desk. He launches himself easily out the window, landing on the dumpster outside what was until just now Vizzini's headquarters. Tseng sighs his own relief into the bustle of the train station, puts the small monitor away, and straightens himself for the meeting. Reno, he thinks, glad to finally have you aboard.

He can forgive the lack of emotional control, for now. It isn't supposed to be easy to slaughter one's comrades. 

It's not twenty minutes before Reno walks into the under-seven station, in spite of the cold clad simply in old boots, dirty jeans and a clean wife-beater. 

“Oh man!” He exclaims, making no attempt to hide his relief. “I wasn't sure you'd really be here, yo!” Tseng merely smirks, and extends a hand, which after hesitating a breath he takes with unnecessary bravado. 

“That's good. We like a man who's willing to take risks.” He gestures onto the train, “After you.”

It isn't a long ride up to the plate, about half an hour, and the car is mostly empty. Still, to Tsengs amusement five minutes in and the youth is having some trouble keeping still. Adrenaline, maybe nerves. He taps a foot against a standing rail, get's up to hang from the hand rail attached to it, spinning vaguely, sits back down, taps some more, runs a hand through his hair. Tseng is looking over his file once more: No last name recorded. Several outstanding warrants. Born in under-two. Stayed in school long enough to receive all standard vaccinations and supplements. Turns seventeen today.

Tseng doubts Reno knows that himself. It's no surprise, planned that way even, but Tseng can't keep the smile from his face. A brand new life. Now that's a birthday present. They arrive on the upper plate, before Shinra Headquarters, and Reno follows him into the light. 

The day is bright, sky a brilliant ocean blue, sun and moon both hanging in its noontide depths. The recruit blinks frantically, rubbing his wide eyes. It's an exceptionally chilly February, and Tseng zips up his own jacket, realizes, slowly, when the recruit falls a few steps behind that this is the first time he's seen a sky not made of metal, the first time the sun has touched his skin.

So he waits. 

There is no wind under the plate, but up here in front of the Shinra tower it's whipping their clothes and hair wildly. Reno stands for a long while, just wide-eyed, feeling, overcome with a feral joy that Tseng will never be used to. Tseng remembers when he first came to Midgar, how oppressive just the concrete and steel and stark, minimal architecture of the upper plates had seemed then, after the forests surrounding Wutai. 

Humans were never built to live below ground.


	2. Orientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mentions of past underage, and underage prostitution, but nothing explicit. Creepy-Ass child grooming behavior. Emotional manipulation.
> 
> So basically the most uncomfortable thing I have ever written >_>

“Your quarters aren't ready yet, but you need to get cleaned up before we meet with the Director.”

“My quarters?”

“Yes. Employees in SOLDIER, General Affairs, and certain levels of Research and Development are provided housing by the company. Makes it easier when you're on call at short notice. Come with me.” Reno nods and follows him into the Shinra complex, up elevators and down hallways and across sky bridges until they reach the building reserved for employee residence, and Tseng's own flat there. When Tseng shows him in, Reno gives a low, impressed whistle. 

“Nice digs you got here.” Tseng smiles. It isn't that much really, but it's clean, with wood floors and wide windows. It is home, for now at least. 

“The bathroom is just down the hall. You need a shower. There are guest things in the top cabinet.” 

“Okay. Thanks, yo.” Tseng hears him pad down the hall, and the shower turn on, some cabinet banging. Presumably Reno successfully locates the soap, because a few seconds later he lets out short cry of surprise-cum-delight. Tseng smiles. Reno has already grown so much since the first stage of recruitment, and preformed so consistently, that Tseng sometimes forgets that he is, in fact, still a just a kid. 

He waits until he hears the water shut off, then goes to knock on the door, carrying a fresh blue suit and white shirt. Tailored as well as they can be, without an actual body present. The door opens partway, gushing steam, and Reno sticks his head out, toweling his hair vigorously and flushed all over. “The water's hot!” he exclaims, beaming. Then falters a little. “That don't cost you or nothing, right?” 

“No, utilities are provided by the company. Here's your uniform.” In a few minutes Reno is dressed and ready to go. Tseng checks his watch. They still have about thirty minutes. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

__

Tseng doesn't use the cafeteria often, so his meal card is still nearly fully loaded. Yet another perk of holding certain higher-risk positions with Shinra. Right now is the middle of lunch rush, smartly dressed employees from every department crowd in, vying a first shot at favorite items, and worrying about the time. No one has much attention to spare the two Turks, but they react automatically to the uniforms, and the crowd parts slightly around them. “I know it's not the usual place.” He says. “But the usual rules apply. Get whatever you want.” He hands the kid his card, and grabs a table.

“Actually anything?” Reno asks.

“Actually anything.”

That has always been the rule, but before they'd always met at a greasy food stand in under seven that Reno liked, and there were never more than three or four options anyway. All dirt cheap. 

He doesn't have long to wait before Reno returns, with a plate full of grilled cheese and tomato, and a heaping pile of fruit. And a steaming bowl of spicy vegetable stew, which he places in front of Tseng. For a instant, Tseng can't think of anything to say. There was something similar at the food stand, and it was what he had always ordered for himself. He hadn't thought that was the sort of thing the kid would have paid attention to. But Reno doesn't seem to expect him to say anything, just tucks into his own lunch with his usual vigor, like he might never see food again. 

They eat in silence. Tseng watches Reno survey his surroundings between bites, alert but not apprehensive, just curious, with a surprising stab of nostalgia. Right now, he looks like the fourteen year old child who had mistaken him for a john three years before.

 

_____ 

There was no rain beneath the plate. But there was damp air, thick pools and rivulets of water in the streets, and the harsh splashing cascade of runoff from above. He sloshed through, stoically ignoring the cold water soaking through his dress shoes and the hem of his pants, numbing his toes. Tseng was twenty, fresh and decorated from the academy, and newly appointed as second to the Director, primarily on his academic merit, and eager to prove to his superior, and those now under his command that he was every bit as competent in the field as behind a desk. But between his home in Wutai, and the academy, he had not spent much time beneath the plate. So it was a good thing that his sources were either honest, or very good guessers. He found what he was looking for, exactly where he'd been told to look for it. 

The target was unmissable; a shock of red in a world of gray and sickly green. He leaned against the wall of a clearly unattended storage building, smoking a probably stolen cigarette. He watches Tsengs approach out of the corner of his eye. Tseng clears his throat, a little unsure where to begin. 

“You're Reno.”

“That's my name.” He looked up at Tseng apprasingly, body relaxed and open with a practiced sensuality that was so profoundly wrong on his small frame it dropped Tseng's stomach. He ignored it. 

“I have a proposal to discuss with you.” The kid quirked his lips in a flirtatious smile.

“That's sweet, yo. Too bad I'm off duty.” He took a slow drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke towards Tseng. “Tell ya what, though. You go talk to Mr. Alder around the corner, he'll set you an appointment. Suit like that I bet he can move some things around real quick.” He eyes Tseng up and down and makes a sound caught somewhere between amusement and pleasure, nods approvingly. “You're pretty, yo. Oh hey, relax! It's cool.” Tseng didn't think he'd ever been more uncomfortable in his life, and he knew it showed. 

“Not that.” He said quickly, with a shake of his head.

“Not...?”

“I hear if someone wants something transported in this sector, you're the man to talk to.” It was a play to the youth's ego, but it was also true. According to rumor, the brothel might keep a roof over his head, but the kid was smart, and ran a side business running anything and everything for a number of local gangs and other operations. Provided, of course, it could walk or he could carry it. He'd made quite a name for himself already. According to Tseng's informants, if you needed something, or someone, moved into, out of, or around under-seven quickly and quietly, this kid could do it. 

Tseng was here to confirm the truth of those rumors. If they panned out, then the kid could be made into a particularly useful asset, given time and incentive.

Reno visibly brightened. 

“Oh yeah? Don't get a lot requests for that from upper-platers. Whaddya need?”

____ 

The delivery had gone smoothly, in spite of every obstacle that had been arranged for it. Veld had then, with some trepidation, agreed with Tsengs suggestion. He wanted Reno for the Turks, when he was old enough. It had become Tseng's job to guide him there. So he created a routine. Every three months or so, Tseng would show up with some task or other for Reno to complete. Each one a little more dangerous, a little more violent than the last. He would pay, of course, but the most important part had been earning the kids trust, even affection. So after each completed test, Tseng would buy him something to eat, and just...hang out. The kid loved to talk, and loved even more that Tseng listened, and it soon became clear that the kid thought the world of him. Sometimes it made him feel like a predator. He wasn't sure whether the fact that over the years, he'd started to enjoy Reno's company, made him feel better or worse about the whole process. 

And now here they are.

“Finish up.” They meet with Veld in ten minutes.

“Okay.”

___

When they enter the office Veld is waiting, with a file on his desk. He motions for them to sit, and flips it open. Tseng can feel the newbie glancing his way for cues. Veld pushes a pulse monitoring device towards him, Tseng nods, and Reno places his hand on it.

“Reno is it?”

“That's my name. Uh, sir.”

“Any family?”

“No.”

“I hear you took care of our little Vizzini problem this morning. How long did you work for him?”

“Over a year, I think.”

“Your work with him was impressive. Tell me about your duties.”

“I did security. And enforcement. I picked guards and made sure folks was where they was supposed to be. Assigned teams. Was Vizzini's personal bodyguard, and I made sure folks who weren't keeping their bargains hurt for it.”

“But you betrayed him.”

“...I got a better offer.”

“What about the Turks?”

“Don't see that a better off 'an that exists, yo.”

“Before Vizzini you made quite a name for yourself as a runner, and fighter for hire. Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Before that, and overlapping with that?”

“I worked at a brothel in seven. Made damn good money too.”

“I don't have anyone else in my department with that background. That particular skill set can be exceptionally useful in gaining access to privileged information, and locations. It can also be an asset in certain undercover operations. Are you able to employ that trade in service of Shinra Corporation, if needed?”

“...Yes...”

“Very good. You will join the others in basic tomorrow. And, you will always address me as Sir. Tseng, Reno, you're dismissed.” Tseng stands, and Reno follows suite. 

“And Reno?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You come very highly recommended by my college here. Don't make him a fool.”

“I won't. Sir.”


End file.
